


TILL I ASPHYXIATE

by fulcrumstardust



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Porn, Broken People In Love, But Jyn won't admit because she hates Cassian, Cassian is not that nice, F/M, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME, Hate Sex, I lied there is a plot (if you squint), Jealousy, OTP Welcome home, Or Is he?, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Battle of Scarif, Rough Sex, Smut, or does she?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-10-20 02:23:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20667755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fulcrumstardust/pseuds/fulcrumstardust
Summary: “Don't fake it with me,” Cassian speaks into her ear.“No,” she chokes out between short pants.This isn’t how betrayals are supposed to go.





	TILL I ASPHYXIATE

**TILL I ASPHYXIATE**

_Take me far from here_

_Are you even there?_

_I miss the way you felt to breathe_

_And it fills me with despair_

_Stratosphere_

_You fill my lungs and take away the air_

⁂

Jyn doesn’t want to kiss, but feels like it would be rude to avoid it too many times. Working on her patience, she reminds herself the idea was hers.

No one forced that promiscuity down on her; she’s the one in control. It helps to soothe that intuitive urge to retaliate, to press a sharp elbow on his trachea and to snap his vertebrae each time his lips brush over hers with way more familiarity than she likes to concede to anyone. Jyn closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She tries to concentrate on her nerve terminations and distances herself from external actions (meaning: to shut her damn brain off). Hopefully, he will take the hint.

She hasn’t caught the man's name between two cups of cheap, sour cider—but she doesn’t need it, doesn’t want to know it. All that matters to her is that the overworked rebel she has picked up among the Horox system’s military presence looks nothing like the one she has left inside the crowded cantina. Even so, Jyn can’t shake off the remaining feeling of a solid stare, burning on her from across the room while she walked out with her distraction of the night.

She doesn’t understand. Or rather she doesn’t want to.

It seems so absurd now. Escaping from a living nightmare and being granted another chance at life, just to watch the person she thought was her friend (no, not a _friend_… What’s between a threat and an ally? Jyn never had the luxury to discover it.) pushing her away without a single word of sympathy. It doesn’t matter anymore how hurt Cassian has been in her arms, nor how hard he has held on to her that time. Everything has died again, smothered under the ashes of ghost worlds, and Jyn is a stranger anew.

_Remember Jyn, you’re disposable. Always has, always will._

This time is no different.

They have drifted away from one another, only sparing empty words when they sit side by side during a meeting, when the Rebellion sends them together on a mission like this one (who's better than a pair of heroes to work out a recruitment propaganda, right?) But that, too, is going astray. Captain Andor is about to go dark, and Jyn isn’t sure she will ever see him again.

She can’t ask, isn’t even supposed to know—only does because she has caught on the wrong conversation at the wrong timing. Not like he would tell her, why would he? Why would he tell her the only person she still has a living connection with is about to disappear at the end of the galaxy and can’t even spare a goodbye to her?

_We said our goodbyes on that beach. And look how painful to mourn you now, while you’re still alive. _

How is this nightmare different from the previous one? Maybe death wasn’t so bad in the face of oblivion; at least she would have stayed in his arms. Jyn is done with the cruel nonsense of her life.

She's so fucking done with Cassian Andor. She wants to stop torturing herself with questions she can’t ask, to forget all about his existence, to move on. He sure has already—because Jyn was just part of the plan, wasn’t she? And if she thought for a split second that she was of any importance to him, anything more than a convenient asset, that has been her mistake. Time to correct it.

Anonymous man is shorter and wider than asshole spy, _much _wider. He probably isn’t fucking around with weight lifting because his biceps look ready to choke her—which isn’t a bad idea. His face is more pleasant, too, more square, his skin pale and his hair too short that she could name the color. He has a nice laugh, a friendly demeanor. Moreover, he’s interested in her and it’s good enough for what Jyn wants.

It has been ages since she had sex with anyone—on Five Points maybe, onboard a mercenary ship? She can’t even recall their identity. It has never been memorable, even less of great importance. Sex is just a means to unravel the tension of her body, to give her a clean slate before she resumes on holding that unpinned grenade. Given the circumstances, it shouldn’t be too hard to have her fully committed to the task.

Her body responds well enough to the treatment, dopamine flooding her system to deliver the adequate response to stimulation. She _knows _she wants to have sex, too. Yes, but once again, it’s an intellectual rationalization to a physical problem and Jyn is dead tired of holding on her state of consciousness. If she could just let go of everything while unnamed man is fucking her, it would be so much more enjoyable.

Jyn groans in annoyance, gripping the man’s shoulders tighter while he inevitably misreads her reaction for appreciation or arousal. Not that she isn’t to begin with. She can even postulate he has a nice dick; one he uses in a somewhat satisfactory manner—or close enough. Jyn is confident she can get off before the end of their intercourse (probably not without her own help). Should she start now?

Thinking, constantly _thinking_. It starts to become increasingly painful; she isn’t pleased with herself. Instinctively, Jyn searches for hair to grab but finds none.

_Right, you’re not fucking that one. _

An undefined sound tries to make it past her lips and she furiously bites on them to stay silent. The air is keen on her naked thighs, carrying the humidity of the night inside the gloomy storage room they have broken into with little care. Jyn can almost see the disapproving look on Draven’s face if someone were to report to the general the activities his recruits are engaging in during such precarious times. _Serves him well_, Jyn bitterly thinks, then; _For what? For sending Cassian away? As if he isn’t willing to, as if—_

Jyn catches herself once more. Can’t she _stop _thinking about another man when she has one thrusting between her legs so diligently? _Such a bitch move, Jyn._

She arches her back, sending her head farther away from him. That will get her less kissing and more dicking, hopefully. Jyn’s legs wrap firmly around the man’s waist. She pushes her hands behind her to support her weight on the stack of metal crates she is balancing on top of, uncaring of the screws digging into her scarred skin. Jyn doesn’t want comfort; Jyn wants something to anchor her down_—_because she might be tempted to cut all ties of self-preservation if she doesn’t get it.

Eyes painfully shut, she wills herself to concentrate on the soft waves of pleasure rising and falling in her pelvic area, and nothing else. He’s on a good spot now, and Jyn finds herself breathing more heavily as she takes his thrusts with her hips angled from below. She wouldn’t mind a bit more roughness_—_even considers moaning to let him know that he’s doing a good job.

That’s about two seconds before the door suddenly opens and a flashlight shines inside of the small space briefly. Footsteps echo on the metal flooring and the door closes again to shield them from an icy rain. Ready to curse the intruder, Jyn sets herself upright in a fluid motion. Her precarious date beats her at it, looking over his shoulder, still lodged between Jyn’s thighs.

“You mind?” he growls. “We’re kind of in the middle of something.”

“You should watch your back better,” answers a stone-cold voice, “it’s not a pleasant spaceport.”

Jyn almost chokes on her own breath, analyzing the situation with a panicked mind. _What the actual kriffin’ fuck? _She could pick that voice over a million. Not only did Cassian followed her, but he also granted himself the right to intrude on her. She won’t believe he didn’t know, he’s trained enough, and now he’s _staring_. What is he hoping to achieve (aside from enraging her)? He can’t seriously expect her to disengage just because he’s _there_, can he? A cold anger travels down her throat, leaving her speechless for longer than she would like to be. This _has _to be a joke.

“You’re just gonna stand there like a creep?” wide man asks in irritation.

“Oh, he will,” Jyn whispers just as the realization hits her.

Confusion must have struck her audience, but she knows better.

It’s not a joke, she understands; it’s a demonstration of power. Jyn’s the subordinate, she’s the sergeant, she’s supposed to be falling in line whenever her officer snaps his fingers. She’s supposed to be _available—_but she’s not tonight, and it might be the reason why she senses so much hostility (...is it? Maybe she doesn’t want to think about a better word.) emanating from Cassian. Whether he’s abusing his prerogatives or not is a debate she’s not willing to have while she’s half-naked_—_but the long, defying stare she exchanges with him only confirms her intuition and wrecks her mind. He’s pissed off, as if he has any rights to be.

Well, Jyn has bad news for Captain Andor. Whatever fucked-up scheme he has decided to play tonight_—_she will send it back his way with a personal note. Jyn frowns and tilts her chin up, unruly. Before anyone can wonder further, she firmly grabs her partner by his flight vest to get his attention back on her.

“Go on,” she says, “let him watch if he has nothing better to do.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes,” Jyn coldly answers.

To back up her words, she clenches her muscles around the man’s length, eliciting a short gasp from him. He still hesitates to move, disturbed by the missing subtext on that perilous situation. Jyn draws her hips slightly upward to meet him, taking him deeper while her hands roam on his biceps more eagerly than before. She might have lost her fucking mind, but she doesn’t want to think about it. Against all odds, her boldness mixed with the last remains of alcohol in his system finish to take over the man’s judgment.

And there she is, fucking a stranger while Cassian Andor is standing watch.

Jyn tastes acid at the back of her mouth. She can barely fit the outrageous concept inside of her mind without breaking into tears, but (_Force fuck!_) she will be damned if she cries in front/because of him. She’s tougher than that.

_C’mon Jyn, you’ve been raised by an extremist cell. Get a grip._ _Several, even._

She should break off the exchange if she has any sanity left_. _She should walk away. She definitely should _not_ be looking at him while another man is fucking her. This is complete madness.

The surrounding obscurity makes her dizzy; her mind rebels the flow of contradictory emotions assaulting her. Jyn closes her arm around the rebel’s neck, her lips parted, her breathing irregular and shallow. She keeps her eyes open, keeps on looking at Cassian over the man’s shoulder_—_their eyes locked in the most revolting way. She watches him being so _stoic _and _silent_, barely a shadow in the back of her mind. It infuriates her how he can stay so unaffected, a complete void of feelings, no matter what she does. Yet, he’s everything she’s thinking about while her body burns up from exhaustion and frustration_—_desperate to draw a reaction out of him.

Jyn catches his name on her tongue right before she can say it. She whimpers as she bites the inside of her mouth, delirious and tormented. _Why are you doing this to me? Why are you here if you don’t care? Can’t you just let me go? Force, I fucking hate you. _

It’s _that _bad.

Jyn hurts because of him, and she longs for revenge. If she can’t fully understand why he’s seeking her _now, _in the dark of this one night, she surely can take it all out on him, release the pin. She can let him know that she doesn't need him_ right now—_not anymore. She doesn't need him to have a good time. _Too late, Cassian. Run away, run away to the end of the fucking world without me. I will not stay here and cry for you. Everyone’s disposable, you taught me well._

“Not inside,” Jyn asks over a breath.

For a moment, she even forgets about Cassian and holds on to this man more earnestly_—_just as she realizes her satisfaction is brought upon her by the ending of their short interaction with one another. She doesn't deny the kiss he leaves on her lips right before they part, bodies and minds altogether. Already, Jyn retreats into herself, colder than she has ever felt.

The rebel silently stares at Cassian while he fastens his belt again, with something resembling defiance_—_beligerness even. Cassian stares back. Until, finally, the man walks off with a last glance towards Jyn, making sure it’s alright to leave her in the presence of Cassian. Is it? She fakes as much, pulling up her pants without shame, hands steady and secure.

“Did it get you hard?” she throws at him like an insult.

He still hasn't moved a single muscle, dripping from rain and seemingly unaffected by his basic need of oxygen. Jyn buttons up her field jacket, making a point of not looking at him as she does so. She then takes a step to exit the room in turn, not willing to wait for an answer she doesn't need to hear.

“Do you always fake your orgasms?”

The mocking sarcasm disguised in the coldness of his voice makes her stop more than the shoulder showed in her way. Jyn looks up to catch his eyes glaring in the dark like a warning.

“And you would know all about faking, _right_?”

The accusation throws him off guard for a handful of seconds. She’s glad about it. But Cassian isn’t a man to leave her unchallenged; he has already proven as such in the past. Stepping closer with a body language she knows to be a decoy stance, he blocks her retreat and lowers his head to pour the entirety of his attention on her. Jyn is ashamed to admit she catches the scent of his wet skin, standing so close that he probably smells the sex on her.

“I know one thing,” Cassian tells her, his voice more hoarse than she has ever heard from him. “That you didn't get what you were looking for.”

“I just got dicked down,” Jyn spits back, her fists suddenly clenched by her sides. “What the fuck do you think I wanted on top of that? A pat on the back? Move the fuck away, I’m done here.”

As Jyn pushes past his shoulder without care, Cassian grabs her by the arm and drags her back to him. Instinctively, her body fights back the aggression. She jerks away, barely stopping herself from breaking his wrist on impulse_—_but the man is determined to stand his ground, which makes Jyn even more furious. To avoid getting punched in the face, Cassian has to restrain both of her arms behind her back with a skillful close-combat parade she didn’t know he possesses._ Lucky son of a Bantha dung, _she thinks_._ The weight of his body shifts on her, using it as his advantage, and Cassian tilts his head to watch her_—_his accent heavy on each word.

“So if I slide my fingers between your legs,” he says with a dangerous edge to his voice, “I wouldn’t find you throbbing and aching for it?”

Jyn opens her mouth, paralyzed, but she has no word to describe the shock of her system. She scrutinizes his face in search of a clue, to determine how to react_—_how to deal with_ this _Cassian. This is uncharted territories. She doesn't recall ever seeing him so close to the limit, not even on Eadu. She even wonders if he's intoxicated. No, this is something else… darker, suffocating. All between them. She feels like it would only take the right push from her and_—_

Jyn is frozen on her feet. Her lips feel dry and her chest too tight_—_yet it’s nothing compared to the dreadful revolt knowing that Cassian is right. Yes, she’s aching for _him_.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she finally breathes back. She hoped it to be cynical and aggressive. It only sounds wounded and vulnerable. And_—oh kriffing hells, _she _hates _him.

“Giving you what you want.”

Jyn tastes the gentleness in his tone and she hates it even more than the threat_—_so much that she refuses to comprehend it. More than anything, she hates that she doesn't hate all of him like she should have from the very first moment they met. _You’re a cold-blooded killer and a liar. You’re nothing to me. You’re everything to me. Why does it hurt so much? Why? _

“Why?”

“Because I’m saying goodbye.”

Ah, it makes sense after all. Jyn shields herself from the devastating impact of his words, digging deep into herself, as far away from him as she can. Her face doesn't betray one bit of the crushing feeling swelling inside of her dying heart.

“At least we’re good at saying goodbyes,” she tells him, not half as hard as she wishes the words have cut.

“Yes… we are.”

She’s the one walking the line now. Jyn doesn’t know whether she’s lying to him or rather to herself, if she wants to take this away from him or herself. It doesn't matter. She can always pretend like nothing happened in the morning. She has done it her entire life.

_Yes, more lies._

Her attention shifts to his lips like she’s expecting to be stabbed by more verbal cues, then back up to meet his eyes. A surprised sort of eagerness flashes in them (quickly vanishing because Cassian he’s not one to let _anything _displayed for someone else to see) right when she speaks her next words: “Go on, give it to me then.”

_Did she really just… ?_

Cassian releases her arms and walks her back to the wall without a word, his tall frame blocking her body between him and the cold pre-fab panel. Jyn’s eyes rest at a level with his shoulder, refusing to look at him, refusing to see if he looks as she feels. Her heartbeat hastens with anticipation, confusion, apprehension, _excitation_—emotions that should have never mixed for her own good. Maybe for his too, seeing how he hesitates before making another move. It doesn't linger long but Jyn catches it nonetheless.

She fiercely dwells on the idea that the master spy isn't so confident of his obscene actions_. _Cassian isn't a _god_, Cassian is just a man. It comforts her, knowing they will both walk out from this (whatever _this_ is) with their own set of regrets.

His hand wraps around her hip then, and the remaining warnings dissolve from Jyn’s mind.

In the dead silence surrounding them, she hears the rustle of fabric when Cassian starts to unbutton her jacket, picking up where her hands have stopped earlier. He slides his fingers underneath like he's on a mission to recalibrate his sniper rifle, pushing the right buttons, fitting the right pieces together. Mechanical, effective. She draws in breath in. The tips of his fingers feel cold from the outdoor weather, his palms warmer, stroking her waist, her back, her ass, while pressing the solid mass of his body on her_—_like she has hoped for so many times._ Wait, no— _

Jyn doesn't understand what happens, but her brain goes blank and the grenade slips from her hands.

She opens her mouth, searching for air like she's been underwater way too long, and grips his arms. Cassian's hands get more hungry at finding her naked skin and for just a moment, she could swear she feels a tremor in his gestures. But it’s already gone. He pushes her jacket out of the way with an impatient move, lifts her shirt up, traces her stomach, her abs, the prominent scar on her left hip bone_—_leaving her to hate the familiarity of his touch, the way her skin suddenly burns under the pads of his calloused fingers, the way she trembles (almost suppressed) when he reaches her pants and effectively slides his hand inside of it. Fuck, she _hates_ him.

Jyn wasn't prepared. Her head falls on his shoulder to mask her expression, just as she tries to silence a moan of pleasure. It transforms into a low groan at the back of her throat. Whatever she does, she _cannot_ let him know that… it's… _Fuck._

His earlier hesitation is nothing but a ghost by now. His fingers work her with as much confidence as if he was the one that made her _this_ wet all along, as if he doesn’t mind the competition. As if he knows he’s not even competing with the rest of them.

Jyn won’t allow him to know that he isn’t. She won’t ever admit just how vividly she thought of him when someone else was fucking her. She won’t give him the satisfaction, because she’s stubborn like that. But fuck,_ fuck—_does it feel good to have _Cassian_ touching her_, _way too good_. _She can’t lose herself like that…

…She already is.

Jyn tightens her fingers around his opened jacket, striving for support. She moves her other hand between them, brushing along his arm, looking for something to focus her mind on. She reaches for his front, palming him through layers of thick fabric, and finds the heat and the neediness of his erection straining against her palm.

“Guess it _did_ make you hard, uh?” she sneers.

“What do you think?” Cassian challenges her.

“I_—_”

She doesn't find the rest of her sentence.

His fingers put more pressure between her legs, stroking her right where she needs it the most, gliding up and down into her heat, circling around her clit. The friction of his hand and the warmth of his presence send a shiver running down her skin like a burning fever. It already feels better than anything she ever had. Jyn jerks against his touch without realizing, yet she won’t let herself moan in delight. She just _won’t _acknowledge her need of… him.

Although, Cassian already knows because Cassian always fucking knows everything. Cassian knows why Jyn Erso is so desperately breathing onto his shoulder, but lets her get away with it—surprisingly.

He pushes his hand lower, opening her pants with the other and sliding the apparel down her muscular thighs until it falls around her ankles, stopped by an unlaced pair of combat boots. She hasn't bothered to put her underwear back on, feeling the cold air biting her moist skin in all the places Cassian isn't touching her.

He doesn't have to fight to find the source of her wetness, Jyn parting her legs for him on instincts. She hates herself for being so docile—but how is she supposed to resist when he’s _this _good? Cassian pushes a dexterous finger inside of her like he already knows her body, then another, and starts to move them gently just to let her feel the itch of it.

The only thing stopping Jyn from moaning how much she likes it is the rough upbringing of a survivalist. Growing up among criminals and unpleasant, borderline predatory people, Jyn has learned by trial to never show any weakness. This, _right here_, is a major weakness—maybe the worst of all because it doesn’t stop at the physical act.

It’s not what he’s doing to her, it’s who’s doing it.

_I hate you_, she tells herself—and each time, it’s harder not to see beneath it. _I should have run for cover._

Jyn is still tensed and needy from her previous interaction (maybe she _does_ fake it sometimes), her insides flooded with arousal and throbbing for relief. And this… this feels like her last straw. _Blast_, she’s so fucking gone. She slams her head back against the durasteel wall, eyes shut, fighting her own urge to beg for more—_harder, faster._ It's all it takes for Cassian to bend forward and to press his warm lips on the hollow of her neck, kissing, sucking, biting her sensitive skin with an unhealthy amount of passion and hunger.

Jyn loses her ground. At last, she delivers that deep, wounded sound of pleasure building up inside her throat and there’s nothing she can do to stop herself. She knows he’s smiling even without looking. She can feel the stretch of his thin lips while he marks a spot right below her ear, the rhythm of his breathing more heavy than a second before.

_Fuck, I hate you. _

Jyn grabs his damp hair in retaliation, so hard that it might hurt. Cassian says nothing and keeps on bruising her skin with his mouth. She trails her fingernails on his scalp, around his ears, down the back of his neck. She presses her thumbs harder along the line of his collarbones, to the base of his throat—and if she pushed harder, she would stop oxygen from entering his system.

She tests him, marveled at the fact he doesn’t stop her (despite knowing his fight-or-flight response must be highly triggered by the action).

Jyn has never seen him fighting without a weapon in hand. Judging by his earlier move, he must have some level of training. He’s also taller and stronger than her, but Jyn isn’t a sniper, she’s a street fighter and that comes with a set of advantages. If she _had _to—with a strategic rear neck choke—she could take him down. She wonders if he’s aware, if a deeper part of his brain registers the menace.

Yet, he lends her the power to hurt him.

It’s _terrible_. All of it—him, her, _them_.

Just when she thinks about running away, Cassian moves his hand faster between her legs, his fingers pressing her front wall, his thumb tracing small circles over her clit, and a tingling feeling jumps in the pit of her stomach, begging her to stay. Jyn whimpers and instinctively moves her head towards his face. Deadly mistake. His stubble grazes over her cheek, the taste of his skin so close to her lips, his manly scent invading her nose until all other thoughts are obliterated. It all makes her arousal ten times worse.

She’s seconds away from a surrender.

_But you're leaving me behind. Why do you have to be like everyone else? Why do you have to break my heart so hard? _

“Don't fake it with me,” Cassian speaks into her ear.

“No,” she chokes out between short pants.

Her fingers uncurl, sliding down his torso, stroking his waist, resting on his narrow hips. Jyn battles not to pull him any closer. Her knuckles turn white on the old leather of his belt; she finds a vibroblade there, shorter than the one strapped on his boot.

If this is all she will ever get from him, she might as well drop the act. Resisting to him is exhausting. Her pride won’t achieve anything; there is nothing to salvage from this stupid play. It’s too late. They’re both pretending to do something else than they’re really doing, but she can’t let him have it all, take it all away from her—because Jyn has nothing else left.

She makes quick work of his belt and trousers as her composure breaks. The holster on his thigh keeps his pants from falling to the ground, but it’s good enough. Jyn slides her fingers under the waistline of his thermal underwear and drags it down without pausing. She has fantasized about Cassian’s dick a fair amount of time, in the quiet of her lonely nights (and is far from disappointed). She has contemplated all the things she wanted to do to him, the way she could make it good for him. Right now, her only concern is for herself.

_That's what you get for being a selfish bastard. You could come back to someone willing to suck your dick after each mission, but you don't know how to play nice. You're right, give me what I want and get the fuck away from me. I don't want to remember how you taste in my mouth. _

_I bet I would love it._

Cassian doesn't make a sound when she closes her fingers around his now-freed erection, with too much spite that it must near pain. Only the rhythm of his breathing changes alongside the column of her throat, and although unkind—he still enjoys her touch.

His lack of complaints hits a nerve in Jyn. His acceptance and… _acquiescence_—to whatever she’s subjecting him—doesn't feel right. She changes tactics, softens her grip, and examines his reactions attentively.

Cassian’s not a talker, and—just like her—he’s too used to locking everything inside. She probably won’t hear his voice no matter how hard she tries, but—_hells, don’t breathe on me like that. _The way he twitches when she teases a caress at the base of his dick, twisting her wrist, is torture. She arches her back from the wall, holding the pulse of his entire body in the center of her palm like a fire pit. Jyn strokes his length with wet fingers, so he will enjoy it (because suddenly she’s dying to please him), taking back the control he’s stealing from her. But Cassian has an unfair headstart; he won’t lose that futile game.

Jyn presses her hips to him, too short to rub herself on him, hoping he will get the message. She drags her nails back to his nape with one hand, barely resisting the urge to beg for his help when her knees finally start to shake. Her next inspiration gets caught in her throat, just as Cassian takes back his fingers. Jyn almost bites down on his neck in protest, all too resentful of the interruption.

“Tell me,” he mutters in a compelling tone. “I need to hear the words from you.”

Jyn licks her lips, her mouth dry and uncooperative. “I want…”

What are words? Why is it so damn hard to plug in a neuronal connection?

“What do you want?”

“I want—” _I’m going to kill you for this, you stupid banthafucker._ “I want _you_,” Jyn groaned with a surge of exasperation, “I want you to fuck me senseless, Cassian.”

_Holy fucking Force. _

Cassian grabs the back of her thighs without warning and pulls her up against the wall. A sigh of surprise leaves her chest as she collides with the stiff surface behind her. Jyn circles his shoulders for balance, muscles strained, and wraps her legs around his waist just as her pants and boots fall to the ground with a soft noise. Cassian holds her pinned down with his body. At last, that annoying height difference between them isn’t a problem anymore.

Seizing the opportunity, Jyn lets her hips grind against him, eagerly chasing after the friction and the feel of him, hard, right at the apex of her thighs. Her ego likes it. Cassian Andor, the steeled and silent spy, who wants nothing, wants _her_. It tastes nice, yet incredibly poisonous.

_ I’m only good enough for a quick fuck in this shithole where you’re too desperate to find another body to use. Does it matter that it’s me? Do you hate that it’s me?_

Supporting her entire weight at the force of his arms, Cassian lets her fall even closer. His chest flat against her, she can almost sense his heartbeat responding to her own, jolting out of control without reason. His erection pressing hard against her inner thighs, his hot breathing tracing the side of her neck, then his lips on her jaw_—_Jyn starts to suffocate.

“Look at me,” he asks (orders).

She won’t_—_keeps her eyes closed and prays that he will just fuck her and be done with it. But of course_—of course—_he won’t.

_Fuck you, Cassian. _

_I hate you. I hate how safe you make me feel whenever you’re holding me. I hate how handsome you are even when you’re wrecked and miserable. I hate your bright eyes, your sorrowful smile, your attractive voice. I hate how you say my name, how you never call it when I want it the most. Who gave you the fucking right to do this to me? _

“Look at me, Jyn.”

She has to comply, because he won’t simply give up and she’s way past her point of rupture now.

Jyn opens her eyes again and turns her attention to him. She fears he will say something else, unsure she can take any more of _this_. But Cassian stays silent and only peers into her clouded gaze, with such depth that her mind starts to fade away.

The next thing she hears is her own cry of pleasure, raw, genuine, when he finally pushes inside of her with a slow and steady motion. Her voice strains, her breath harsh against his face. The grip on his shoulders becomes painful as Jyn tries to adjust to his presence inside of her body, already knowing she will remember him long after they have parted.

_Why does it feel so fucking good just because it’s you?_

Suddenly, it’s too much. The weight of his body, the heat of his touch, the scent of his skin, the long pressure when he makes a tentative thrust with deliberate restraint. She’s too worked up, her core painfully throbbing around his dick, taking him deeper and deeper_—_merging their bodies and their baselines together. Jyn almost comes undone on the spot with a soft cry.

She tugs at his hair, barely breathing, feeling closer and closer to the edge. Then this terrible thing happens that Cassian tries to kiss her.

Immediately, Jyn jerks her head to the side. She can’t take the kissing on top of everything else, she’s already losing her fucking mind. He doesn't stop moving nor asks about it_—_but she knows it’s not as simple as just refusing to kiss him. _What are we even doing? Is this your idea of a goodbye?_

His pace becomes more intense, violent, almost_—punitive. _Jyn can't tell if it’s about her or himself, or possibly the both of them. She _loves_ it.

Because she has refused to give him what he wants, she feels guilty to take satisfaction from what he gives to her, but she can’t hold back that keen moan. Cassian groans (_holy shit_) into her neck in response, teeth scraping her skin. More pleasure comes running down her entire body when he soothes it with the flat of his tongue. All of her nerves endings are on fire, pulsing, sparkling. A low tide rolls over her again and again, pulling her under with a gradual force, until she can’t sense anything else but the tension ready to break with each of his erratic actions. That constant, constant, constant force… ripping her body apart, merging the ends together once again.

Fuck, he really knows what ‘senseless’ looks like.

She thinks of something along the lines of ‘_please don’t stop_’, ‘_I’m gonna come_’ or ‘_I’m so close_’. She says none of it. He probably already knows.

Instead, she says his name_—_one, two, three times… and that’s the only prayer on her tongue while Jyn experiences a devastating orgasm in his arms, leaving her to cry out with a voice she has never used. Her insides clench around him repeatedly, adding a layer of pleasure to the overwhelming connection.

All of the broken pieces of her, wanting all of the sharp edges of him.

And it hurts wonderfully. For a short moment in time, Jyn welcomes the felicity and the bliss of that release, exalted that she has done nothing to help it.

…Until her breathing slows down, and it all comes crashing down on her, the reality starting to push back the last trace of her ecstasy away.

Jyn almost fucking _sobs_.

She hates herself for being this weak, for being entranced with him, for the burden he puts on her, for the hurt she wants to take away from both of them_—it’s not fair_. None of it is.

“Hey,” Cassian rasps.

She looks at him again, looking at all the secrets he doesn't want her to see in his eyes most of the time_—_the misery and ugliness and self-loathing. Suddenly, she urges him closer; her trembling hands on his face and her lips over his, possessive. She kisses him like she has kissed no other, moaning into his hot breath, discovering his sweet taste on her tongue and lingering in it_—_never wanting to let him go. She relishes from his touch, from the strong feelings that come with each of his kisses.

Cassian’s stubble is harsh against her skin, his hips ruthless in finding pleasure for himself, his fingers now bruising her thighs_—but fuck, _his kisses are the most gentle thing about him. Jyn has to surrender, at last.

She has to admit that the only part she hates about Cassian Andor is the part where he won’t come back to her.

“Jyn,” he says, short of breath.

His arms are shaking, growing tired from the effort of supporting her. Jyn adjusts her grip on him as he pulls her from the wall and pushes her on top of the same crates she has been earlier. She lies down and takes him with her. Cassian’s body covers her own in a safe embrace. She raises her knees and locks her ankles behind him to keep him close, all of her oxygen contaminated by his scent.

He uses his freed hands to roam over her body, coming to rest over her breasts with a rough touch. Jyn angles her head to the side to allow more kissing, now dying to keep his lips on hers_—_sensing something terrible might happen if she doesn't. And he kisses her back, each and every time with the same adoration that breaks her soul into stardust.

Cassian weights all of himself on her, crushing her underneath his lean body when she feels him _almost _there. She wraps her arms under his jacket, stroking his back, supporting his frame. She takes it away from him_—_just for a moment, that dreading necessity of being the stronghold, the spire, the everlasting soldier and first casualty. She takes it all away until she cannot breathe anymore.

“I need to_—_”

“Yes,” Jyn rushes. “Come inside me.”

Cassian moans, his lips on her mouth, hard strokes and body spasming until he goes rigid with a deep frown and actually stops breathing. Jyn keeps on holding him between her arms, one hand resting in his hair, the other on his back. _Would you stay with me if I held you close enough?_ They both remain silent; she listens to his resumed breathing as the only lifeline between them. Irregular at first, then slowly coming down to an imperceptible caress on her cheek. She doesn't want to part. Not yet. Never.

She keeps on holding him instead_, _feeling him shuddering, as if she could cage him inside her world forever.

When Cassian finally makes a move to disengage, Jyn still isn’t ready but doesn't oppose him. The mess left behind by their bodies runs down her ass in a very unpleasant manner. She sits up, watching Cassian pulling his pants up without a word.

In the soothing darkness, Jyn tries to locate her own pants before moving. He’s quicker at the task, holding out the apparel before she has even found the will to move. Untrusty of her own legs, Jyn carefully slides to the ground with the distinct impression her entire body is aching from the treatment. Uncalled for, considering she hasn’t been the one doing most of the work. Crouching down to lace up her boots again is the most excruciating part.

All too soon comes the horrifying moment where she has nothing else to focus on but the aftermath between them.

She doesn't know how to proceed, and neither does he. They both stare at each other like strangers, leaving Jyn to wonder if it has been nothing more than a vision of her_—_if Cassian has put so much longing into her name or if her disillusions have reached another critical level of self-destruction.

Cassian smiles at her, barely a smirk, but something personal_—close. _

She can’t smile back, so she reaches for him with a trembling hand. He pulls her into his arms, back to that warm place on his chest and suddenly, he’s the one grounding her, holding her so she can shred the crux off her shoulders.

“I can’t take another goodbye,” she accuses.

Cassian curls his fingers into her hair, gently tracing her nape while his voice stays sharp and unapologetic—disciplined soldier that he is.

“I'm a spy. I can't take you with me. And you're acting like a fucking child, Jyn.”

She slaps his chest in revolt, not succeeding at making him vacillate in the slightest. “Why? Because I fucking _care_ about you?”

His arms tighten around her waist almost… protectively. Cassian lowers his chin so he can look at her. His eyes appear too dark in the storage room, irritated, and Jyn braces herself for the words she never wants to hear from him.

“Because I'm fucking trying not to fall in love with you so it doesn't get me killed!” he hisses. “And you're making it this extra difficult for both of us.”

Jyn blinks at him, unsure.

This isn’t how betrayals are supposed to go.

“We can't do this…,” Cassian adds with a softer voice, “not until the war is over.”

His hands trace gentle patterns on her back, trying to soothe the anguish he can clearly see in her eyes.

“What if we're _dead _by then,” Jyn argues back in spite, “do you think it would have been worth it to only dream of it?”

Even as she rebels, Cassian won’t let go of her. She’s not used to having someone willing to match her temper. She’s not used _having _someone, someone just like her. For a precarious moment, Jyn thinks she might have a chance at winning him over. A wistful thinking.

“I have _nothing_, Jyn. Thinking about what could happen between us… that's the only thing that will make me come back to you.”

That pain is more agonizing than any other, because she can’t hate him for it. Jyn clutches her fingers on his shirt and abandons the last of her cynicism. No more lies. Tonight, she bares her soul to him; and if he has nothing, she will give him _everything_. All she can, all of her, all the way.

“But what if we lose it all?” her voice pleads with fear, barely shy of tears. “What if we never get to have an after together?”

Cassian reaches with both hands around her face, tilting her head back and resting his forehead against her. He kisses her temple, her cheekbone, her lips, soft and gentle, with care. A longer kiss on her lips.

_What if I’m already in love with you, Cassian? _

His voice sings low to her ears_—_but solid, indefectible. And Jyn believes him when he says:

“Then I'll find you in the next life, and I promise I'll never leave you again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaand, fade to black! 
> 
> Alright, that's the piece I wrote as a birthday gift to me from me (because you gotta treat yourself right?). I originally planned on going on a different road with Cassian, but apparently those two can't behave without being stubbornly in love so here we are and I'm not mad!  
I really hope you enjoyed it with me, leave me a comment if you feel like it! xx ❤️ 
> 
> (ps: opening lyrics are from Starset's song "Stratosphere")


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